


cut to the feeling

by silver (rosegolds)



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: 4+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, kihyun is very in love, minhyuk big brained artistic genius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegolds/pseuds/silver
Summary: Kihyun would follow Minhyuk anywhere he goes. It doesn’t matter if it were to Tokyo, to Antarctica, or to the moon—Kihyun would be there in a heartbeat. And he needs Minhyuk to know that.(Four times Kihyun thinks about proposing to Minhyuk, and the one time he actually does.)
Relationships: Lee Minhyuk/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	cut to the feeling

**Author's Note:**

> happy kihyuk month :)
> 
> insp. by ‘cut to the feeling’ by carly rae jepsen
> 
> i hope you enjoy!! ♡

1

They’d never admit it, but Kihyun’s parents had always liked his older brother more than they liked him. Kiwoo was the perfect son growing up, and went on to be the perfect son in adulthood, too. Graduated at the top of his class before moving on to law school. Breadwinner lawyer, perfect bragging material. Smart, handsome, polite. A good husband to his wife. And now, a good father for their newborn son.

Kihyun clutches the steering wheel tighter, eyebrows furrowing at the road ahead of him. Minhyuk’s sitting beside him in the passenger seat, humming along to the radio as if no one’s listening, carefree.

“God, Kihyun, relax,” Minhyuk says when he glances over. He’s fighting to hold back a laugh. “What’s with the iron grip? Your hand is gonna cramp up.”

Kihyun sighs, softening his grip as much as he can will himself to, knowing that Minhyuk is right. His hands _do_ cramp easily. “I’m just—I’m nervous.”

“Why? It’s just your brother,” Minhyuk says with a shrug. “Your parents aren’t even gonna be there—thank God.”

“I know, but,” Kihyun says. “He just. Makes me feel small.”

“You _are_ small,” Minhyuk teases. Kihyun rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean,” Kihyun whines. His parents are worse, but Kiwoo is his own brand of condescending, occupying his own circle of Kihyun’s personal hell. Not as outright about it, but just existing in his perfect spacious house, surrounded by the perfect white picket fence, coming home to his perfect wife—that is enough to make Kihyun want to rip his hair out.

“Hey, look at me. Actually—” Minhyuk shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Look at the road. But listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“Kiwoo is a fucking prick. But you can’t let him get to you. You got that promotion at work—make sure you mention that. Rub in his face. I’m not against stretching the truth, either. Tell him we moved to a nicer apartment,” Minhyuk says.

“We haven’t moved to a nicer apartment—Minhyuk, that’s not stretching the truth, it’s a complete lie.”

“Okay, but we _can_ now, since you got that promotion!” Minhyuk says, pointing a finger in Kihyun’s direction. “It’ll be fine. Plus, you have me. Your trophy boyfriend.”

Kihyun lets himself smile at that. Minhyuk always knew what to say, even when laced with nonseriousness. And there _is_ some truth to it—as conservative as Kihyun’s family is, even they can admit Minhyuk is an absolute catch.

Kihyun lets out a sigh, a less nervous one this time, and lets his shoulders relax as he makes the turn onto Kiwoo’s street.

Luckily for baby Eunsoo, he looks just like his father. He’s sure to be showered with compliments for the rest of his life because of it.

Kiwoo’s wife, Siyeon—who Minhyuk often describes as having the personality of wet cardboard—pours Kihyun and Minhyuk a cup of tea. The four of them circle the dining table, with Eunsoo sitting in his highchair next to Siyeon’s seat.

Eunsoo looks like he’s about to throw a tantrum any second now.

They’ve gotten through the formalities. Kihyun made sure to brag about his promotion at work, as per Minhyuk’s instructions. He leaves out the bit about the new apartment. But considering how ungracefully the silence had fallen around them, Kihyun’s considering it, maybe even include one of those jacuzzi bathtubs in this completely fabricated new apartment.

“We moved into a new apartment,” Minhyuk says, in a feeble attempt to make conversation, as if he’s read Kihyun’s mind but somehow gotten the wrong message entirely. Kihyun internally slaps a palm to his forehead.

“Oh, did you? Outgrow the old one?” Kiwoo asks. “You should let us come visit sometime, Kihyun.”

Kihyun presses his lips into a line, turning slowly to face his boyfriend. “Did you hear that, Minhyuk? He wants to visit. Our _new apartment_.”

Minhyuk just gives Kihyun a stupidly confident smile, and Kihyun genuinely considers going through with the jacuzzi bathtub bit. They’ve gotten this far now, so why the hell not?

As if on cue, Eunsoo wails at the top of his tiny lungs.

Kihyun stifles a laugh as Siyeon frets, trying—and failing—to soothe her fussy baby. It’s to no avail, Eunsoo just screams louder.

Kiwoo shuffles in his seat in Kihyun’s peripheral vision. It’s obvious as soon as it happens—breadwinner lawyer for a father who doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of his son. Of course. By the looks of it, Siyeon isn’t any better. It takes all of Kihyun’s willpower for him to not roll his eyes. He wonders how long it’ll be before the couple leaves Eunsoo in the hands of a nanny.

By the time Minhyuk speaks up, it almost feels too late. As if he’s missed the window of what’s considered the socially acceptable amount of time to let Siyeon suffer before offering a hand of assistance. “Siyeon, do you need a hand?”

Siyeon sends a not at all subtle scowl over her shoulder before facing her son again. The whole situation is so awkward and ridiculous that Kihyun has half a mind to join Eunsoo and start screaming himself.

“I’m really good with kids,” Minhyuk says. “Right, Kihyun?”

“Uh—yes,” Kihyun nods, just barely realizing that he’s been addressed. “It’s true. Babies love Minhyuk.”

Siyeon reluctantly steps aside, not bothering to respond. Kiwoo is so silent that Kihyun almost forgets he’s there.

Minhyuk stands up, chair scraping against the tile in his wake. Eunsoo is still fussing, but he subdues a bit when he notices that Minhyuk’s towering over him. He stares up at the unfamiliar grown-up with round, curious eyes.

“Come here,” Minhyuk says as he’s lifting Eunsoo up and out of the highchair from under his arms.

It’s a joke among their friends that Minhyuk is some kind of baby whisperer. Even though Minhyuk’s barely had the opportunity to spend much time around children, they all instantly fall in love with him. Whether they’re crying or kicking or screaming, Minhyuk’s presence alone calms them down.

So, it’s not a surprise that he has the same effect on Eunsoo as well. Settled on Minhyuk’s hip, his breathing steadies, his sobs and hiccups subside. It happens so quickly—Siyeon’s gawking as if the switch happened when she blinked.

And Kihyun—he feels like he might die, right then and there.

“It’s okay,” Minhyuk whispers softly to Eunsoo. “Uncle Minhyuk is here. You’re okay.”

Uncle Minhyuk. Yeah, Kihyun’s going to fucking die. This might be the first time in his entire life he’s experienced baby fever.

Minhyuk’s swaying, gliding a thumb across Eunsoo’s plushy cheeks to wipe away a tear. The scene is so soft, so sweet.

To Eunsoo’s delight, he gets to stay on Minhyuk’s hip for the rest of their visit. The adults make more fruitless, petty conversation. Kihyun sits up straighter, shoulders back and smug. Kiwoo can boast about his job all he wants, but Kihyun knows it’s out of pettiness.

Kiwoo has a lot of things—money, stature, a lavish house, a beautiful wife, a fussy but adorable son. But he doesn’t have _Minhyuk_.

A soft, fuzzy smile graces Kihyun’s lips as he watches Minhyuk put Eunsoo in his crib. His large hands cradle the baby’s face, thumbs resting on the squishy, pillowy flesh of his cheeks. Eunsoo smiles back up at his almost-uncle, kicking his feet in delight.

Eunsoo’s arms reach up, trying to grab back onto Minhyuk. Kihyun nearly coos at the sight.

Minhyuk giggles softly. He glances over his shoulder, making sure Siyeon isn’t in the room, before leaning in closer to Eunsoo. “Don’t tell your parents this but I hate them and never want to see them again,” he whispers. “But you’re so cute I just might have to come visit you again. You’ll get to see uncle Minhyuk again soon, I promise.”

Uncle Minhyuk—there’s a technicality. They’re not married so _technically_ , only Kihyun is Eunsoo’s uncle. But uncle Minhyuk—it has a nice ring to it. And it’s just a technicality, something that could be easily fixed. Something that Kihyun would like to change, one day, maybe even soon.

2

Minhyuk is good at a lot of things. He’s good at making Kihyun laugh, he’s good at anticipating Kihyun’s tears, and he’s good at making Kihyun feel loved.

The one talent that never ceases to amaze Kihyun is the fact that Minhyuk is also good at choosing the most obscure conversation topics for post-sex cuddling. After four years of being together, Kihyun’s yet to call the final verdict on whether it’s cute or weird.

“Did you know whales’ tails are all unique? Like our fingerprints? Every single whale has its own unique tail. It’s so cool,” he would say.

“No, Minhyuk I didn’t know that. Why the hell would I know that?” Kihyun would reply.

Tonight, Kihyun takes it upon himself to strike up a conversation, before Minhyuk can unlock a full account of like, the entire history of the printing press or something from his brain. Kihyun knows what he wants to ask—the visit to his brother’s house is still occupying the foreground of his thoughts.

He presses a kiss on the back of Minhyuk’s neck, squeezing his arms around Minhyuk’s waist even tighter. Minhyuk knows well that it’s what Kihyun does when he wants him to turn around, when Kihyun’s the big spoon. Kihyun wouldn’t let anyone outside the four walls of their bedroom know that he likes being the big spoon—maybe even prefer it.

“What is it?” Minhyuk asks once he’s shifted to face Kihyun, hands on autopilot to brush a stray hair away from Kihyun’s forehead. It’s automatic and gentle.

Kihyun feels shy suddenly. But it’s too late to backtrack, Minhyuk’s eyes have already assumed their curious, doe-eyed sparkle.

“Do you—um. Did you ever picture what your wedding would be like? Growing up?” Kihyun asks hesitantly. He’s not sure why he decided to phrase it like that. He already knows Minhyuk is exactly the type of person to daydream about what his future wedding would be like.

Minhyuk smiles back at him softly, gently. “When I was really little, I thought about it all the time. The flowers, the music. Seeing my future wife walk down the aisle. Everything. You know at the end of The Little Mermaid when they get married? I would think to myself, that’s gonna be me one day,” Minhyuk says, making Kihyun giggle. “Then I realized I was bi, and I added the possibility of a guy walking down the aisle, but everything else stayed as romantic and corny as it’d always been.”

Kihyun tucks his arm under his cheek, squishing it in the process. The answer is nothing short of what Kihyun had expected, and the image of baby Minhyuk thinking about his future wife, chin resting on his palm in classic daydream fashion, is kind of the most adorable thing ever.

“What about you?” Minhyuk asks. “I’m actually really curious. Childhood Kihyun seems like an enigma.”

“Well, when I was younger, I figured I’d get married one day because that’s what everyone does,” Kihyun says. “When I was a teenager, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get married… the way my parents reacted when I first came out had me convinced no one would _want_ to marry me.” He directs his gaze to the pillow at that, squished cheek obstructing his view.

“And now?” Minhyuk’s voice is a mere whisper.

“I think I felt that way until somewhere between meeting you and realizing I was serious about you,” Kihyun muses. His cheeks flush at the memory of their newly blossoming love, four years ago. “I’d like to get married—one day, I think.”

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows. Kihyun feels his heart speeding up, wondering if he’s being too forward or if he’s saying too much. Minhyuk’s always been better at articulating his feelings when it came down to it. He always knew just what to say, and just how much to say.

To Kihyun’s relief—or perhaps dismay—Minhyuk practically coos at Kihyun’s response. “Oh, my god. That’s so cute.”

Kihyun rolls onto his back, covering his face with his hands. He can feel his cheeks heating up. “Stop it,” he whines.

“You changed your mind about marriage because of me?” Minhyuk teases. Kihyun isn’t looking, but he can hear the smile dripping into Minhyuk’s words. “You love me that much?”

“You are unfortunately very easy to fall in love with,” Kihyun grumbles behind his hands. “But I think I’m regretting it now.”

“I love you, too,” Minhyuk gushes at him, bringing a hand up to rub Kihyun’s arm. “And I love when you unintentionally say cheesy stuff.”

Kihyun drags his hands off his face. He rolls his eyes before letting them meet Minhyuk’s gaze again.

“I love you, Minhyuk,” he says after a half-dreamy, half-tired sigh. Because it’s true. He _does_ love Minhyuk that much. “I really love you.”

Minhyuk’s eyes soften, his teasing smile turning fond. “Stop, now you’re making _me_ blush. I love you, too. You bastard.”

Kihyun doesn’t hold back his smile. Minhyuk’s voice is so sugary sweet that Kihyun has half a mind to propose right then and there, no ring, no clothes under the covers, no plan of what he’d say. _I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you._ That’d be enough, right? It’s at the tip of his tongue.

But he doesn’t say it. Minhyuk deserves a better proposal than that. He deserves the world.

Kihyun grabs onto Minhyuk’s wrist, and tugs. Minhyuk knows that’s his cue to lay on his side again, to return to their previous cuddling position.

Kihyun snuggles up against Minhyuk’s back, letting the broad expanse of it comfort him. He’s coaxed into slumber by a blurry mess of images of the wedding scene from The Little Mermaid, wondering if mermaid lore has anything to say about the uniqueness of mermaid tails. Minhyuk must know the answer to that—perhaps he’d ask him in the morning.

Kihyun wants to marry Minhyuk—he needs to. Their conversation that night makes the need grow tenfold. He smiles in his sleep.

3

It’s a fleeting thought, but it happens, nonetheless. Kihyun considers emptying out his emergency fund on a ring.

It happens as Minhyuk’s showing him a new exhibit at the museum, chattering on about a painting he’s particularly enthusiastic about, hands gesturing excitedly.

Kihyun shakes his head—no, that’s a bad idea. He should put away the ring money separately. As soon as his next paycheck comes in, he’ll put a portion of it away specifically for this purpose—there’s no need to put a dent in what’s meant for sudden car trouble or hypothetical medical expenses.

Minhyuk is an art curator, and though Kihyun still has trouble explaining to people he newly meets as to what an art curator actually _is_ , he does know that as Minhyuk’s boyfriend, he gets special boyfriend privileges. Like seeing the new exhibits before the public. Like listening to Minhyuk gush about paintings and sculptures and why they’re so special and beautiful and important.

“They’re _swans_ , Kihyun. Doesn’t that break your heart?” Minhyuk sighs. He’s holding a pamphlet for the new exhibit, curling it in his hands.

Kihyun blinks. “Are swans supposed to be sad?”

Minhyuk lightly whacks Kihyun’s shoulder with the pamphlet, stifling a giggle. The emergency fund is looking more and more tempting each second. “Swans mate for life, Kihyun. They’re practically soulmates.”

Kihyun blinks back to the painting. Two swans wading through thick black water, the dark liquid coating some of their feathers. He doesn’t get what’s so sad about it—he doesn’t get it at all, really. But if Minhyuk says it’s sad, it must be. If Minhyuk loves it so much, it mustn’t be too bad.

Two swans, side by side. A moment passes, and it doesn’t much longer for it to click in Kihyun’s head. The way Minhyuk is almost waxing poetic over a mostly minimal and monochrome painting of two swans—it’s obvious he sees the two of them in the painting. Two swans, two lovers. Two soulmates. Kihyun and Minhyuk. Minhyuk and Kihyun.

Kihyun wonders if needing to be engaged to your boyfriend _right now_ qualifies as an emergency.

“Yeah,” Kihyun agrees. “I see it now.”

Minhyuk scrunches his nose. “I don’t believe that for a second. I know art isn’t really your thing,” he says, gesturing weakly at the painting. “But I appreciate you for humouring me.”

“What—no! I really do get it, Minhyuk,” Kihyun sputters.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, but there’s no bite to it. A smile is at the corner of his lips. “I’m finished up here. Come on, let’s go home.”

4

Hyungwon props his feet up on the coffee table. Kihyun tosses him a can of beer—and misses. The can thuds against the floor and rolls away, disappearing under the couch.

Twenty-four hours from now, Kihyun will be attending the opening night of a new exhibition at Minhyuk’s museum. Already the second one Minhyuk is in charge of this year. Tonight, Minhyuk is still at work, scrambling through last-minute preparations and finishing touches. On nights like these, it’s not rare to find Hyungwon, Kihyun and Minhyuk’s mutual best friend from college, lounging in their apartment to keep Kihyun company.

Kihyun groans, blindly feeling under the couch in attempts to retrieve the runaway can.

“Minhyuk’s working late _again_ ,” Hyungwon sighs, offering no help. “You know, he wouldn’t have to break his back like this if he just took that consultant job.”

At that, Kihyun pops his head up, beer can be damned. “What consultant job?”

Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Kihyun shakes his head. It feels weird—they never keep things from each other. At least, Kihyun is almost physically unable to keep things from Minhyuk. The truth always comes out like water rushing through a broken dam. It’s just Minhyuk’s effect on him.

“Well, you know Son Hyunwoo?” Hyungwon says.

Kihyun tilts his head in thought. “The real estate guy?”

“He’s not just _the real estate guy_ —that’s almost an insult.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. He sells real estate to celebrities. So what?”

“You’re impossible,” Hyungwon huffs. “He’s one of the richest men in Korea.”

“Okay… and what’s the big deal?” Kihyun asks, attention returning to the beer can under the couch. Finally, his hand meets the cool aluminum.

“The big deal is that Minhyuk has a job offer from him.”

Kihyun freezes. The beer can is the least of his concerns right now. He blinks up at Hyungwon. “He what?”

“Son Hyunwoo wants an art consultant, to tell him what’s good art and what isn’t,” Hyungwon explains. “I guess having fancy art is a way to make the places he sells more attractive? Especially for pretentious rich people, which is like, his entire client base.”

“How does Son Hyunwoo know Minhyuk?”

Hyungwon snorts. “He doesn’t, obviously. But somehow Minhyuk’s boss at the museum does? And recommended him. Because, you know, Minhyuk’s an art genius.”

Kihyun frowns. It doesn’t make any sense. It sounds like an amazing opportunity. Considering how filthy rich Son Hyunwoo is, Kihyun can only imagine how much better this job would pay than his current curator gig at the museum. “How come he didn’t tell me?” Kihyun says, sounding a bit deflated.

“The job is in Tokyo,” Hyungwon says. “I guess Son Hyunwoo’s already emptied the pockets of every celebrity in Korea and needs to continue somewhere else.”

Kihyun turns Hyungwon’s response over in his mind, staring blankly at the beer can in his hands until it blurs in his vision. Keeping secrets is an alien feeling, but he can understand why Minhyuk didn’t want to tell him, at least, not right away. Taking this job would mean the two of them would have to pick up their lives and move to Tokyo. That’s not something you can just _do_ —it’s a big decision, one that would put them on an entirely new path.

“Did he turn it down? The job?” Kihyun asks, chewing on his lip.

Hyungwon shakes his head. “He hasn’t given an answer yet. He’s pretty set on not taking it but I’ve been trying to convince him think about it more,” he says. “I mean, it’s fucking Tokyo—and Son Hyunwoo. I don’t know what reason he could have for not wanting it.”

Kihyun’s about to agree—Minhyuk has always talked about wanting to visit Tokyo. Moving to Tokyo and pursuing a dream job, it seems like a no brainer.

Unless Minhyuk thought Kihyun wouldn’t want to move to Tokyo. Perhaps Minhyuk had assumed that Kihyun didn’t want to move, to leave his job, or his friends, or some other trivial piece of his life in Seoul. Perhaps Minhyuk had decided that if Kihyun isn’t going to move, then he won’t either.

Kihyun does enjoy living in Seoul. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable, it’s all he’s ever known. It’s where his family lives. It’s where he and Minhyuk met. But when he really thinks about it, do any of those things matter? He hardly visits his parents or his brother—they’re insufferable, at best. He can count his closest friends on one hand, and most of them are moving onto the next stages of their lives, starting families, owning homes. Seoul is where he works, but it’s not like he’s particularly passionate about staying at his particular actuarial firm for the rest of his life.

Perhaps there’s really only one thing keeping him in Seoul. Minhyuk is the most important thing in Kihyun’s life, and has been for a while. The only constant in the rapid changes following his college graduation. The person he wakes up to, the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes. He’d follow Minhyuk anywhere he goes. If Minhyuk is going to Tokyo to be an art consultant, then Kihyun’s going to Tokyo too. It doesn’t matter if it were to Tokyo, to Antarctica, or to the moon—Kihyun would be there in a heartbeat.

And he needs Minhyuk to know that. Kihyun knows none of this would even be a question if they were married, engaged even. He’s saving up for the ring—but he wonders if just taking the leap, cancelling his reservations, and using his emergency fund actually _was_ the better idea. He curses himself for holding back that night they were laying in bed, talking about the wedding scene in The Little Mermaid. It wasn’t the perfect, romantic moment he’d always envisioned, but maybe things would’ve turned out different by now if he’d just went with his gut. He wonders if they’d be en route to Tokyo already if different decisions had been made.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make it weird. I should’ve let Minhyuk tell you, I’m sorry,” Hyungwon says, softer this time. He must’ve noticed Kihyun’s somber expression, still staring defeatedly at the beer can in his hands. It’d be hard not to. “Let’s watch a movie or something.”

A few hours after Hyungwon lets himself out, Minhyuk comes home from work, visibly exhausted. Kihyun can tell he’s stressed about the exhibition, hiding it behind his meek smile.

Minhyuk tornados around the bathroom at light speed before stumbling into bed beside Kihyun. Kihyun, who’d been staring blankly at Minhyuk’s side of the bed, awaiting his return, until he could barely keep his eyes open.

“It’ll be fine, Minhyuk,” Kihyun mumbles, voice dripped with drowsiness. “The exhibition will be amazing. You’re a pro at your job.”

Minhyuk shuffles, trying to lay on his side. He settles and gazes into Kihyun’s eyes. “I am good at my job, aren’t I?”

Kihyun blinks a few times, trying to fight sleep. “Yeah, but,” he manages. “You’d be good at any job.”

Minhyuk hums, breaking his gaze, staring past Kihyun’s shoulder. His expression is unreadable.

“Minhyuk,” Kihyun says. “Have you ever thought about not living in Seoul?”

Minhyuk’s eyes widen ever so slightly. It’s a miracle Kihyun even catches it, in the darkness of their bedroom, in his tired state. “What? What do you mean?”

“We wanted to travel in college,” Kihyun says. “We didn’t really get the chance.”

“We went to Jeju island,” Minhyuk points out.

Kihyun’s far too tired to argue that going to Jeju island hardly counts as travelling. Especially when he got food poisoning, which put him in a sour mood for almost half the trip. “I want to go somewhere else. Eventually,” he mutters. “Promise me we will?”

Minhyuk smiles softly. “I promise.”

“I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

Minhyuk doesn’t respond, just leans over and presses a kiss to Kihyun’s nose.

Kihyun’s eyelids are heavy. He isn’t sure when he crosses the line between being asleep and awake. It fades naturally, with images of Tokyo’s shimmering beauty and sparkling lights flickering along until he finally falls asleep. He dreams of a wedding in Tokyo, perhaps a honeymoon in Tokyo. Perhaps the rest of their lives in Tokyo.

There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to cut to the feeling—the loving security—of being Minhyuk’s husband. Waking up beside him every day, with the Tokyo Tower somewhere beyond the window of their home.

5

The plan was so simple.

Kihyun had finally saved up enough money to buy a ring. It was a simple, solitaire, princess cut diamond with a white gold band. As far as engagement rings go, the diamond wasn’t all that big, not as gaudy or luxe as Minhyuk would probably dream of, but it sparkled beautifully when Kihyun held it up to the light. He almost shed a tear right in front of the jeweller.

The plan was to make Minhyuk dinner, and find a moment afterwards to pop the question. It wasn’t planned out to the millisecond, but it was simple enough that even Kihyun couldn’t screw it up, right?

The menu was red wine steak, with pasta on the side—a recipe he found online that sounded fancy but seemed doable. He even took the morning off work to go grocery shopping without Minhyuk knowing. He even bought sea salt instead of regular salt because it seemed fancier, not that Minhyuk would even notice the difference.

Things start going wrong before he even starts cooking.

Kihyun rummages through the kitchen drawers, opening and closing each one over and over, as if doing so would magically make the thing he’s looking for appear.

“You okay back there?” Minhyuk calls from the couch, where Kihyun had situated him as soon as he’d walked through the door after another long day at work.

“I can’t find our wine opener,” Kihyun mumbles, shuffling through their silverware, knives and forks clinking against each other loudly.

“Oh!” Minhyuk says, jumping up from the couch. “I gave it to Hyungwon.”

Kihyun freezes. A lone fork drops to the tile under his feet. “You what.”

“Yeah, when he invited us over last week, he asked me to bring a wine opener. ‘Cos he couldn’t find his,” Minhyuk explains. “I forgot to get it back from him.”

Kihyun blinks. Of course, this would happen to him. Of course, he’d plan to make a dish that requires wine and not even have a wine opener.

“How am I supposed to make red wine steak without the wine?”

“Can’t you make it without the wine?” Minhyuk suggests.

“Minhyuk, it’s _red wine steak_ ,” Kihyun grumbles, covering his face with his hands. “Without the wine, it’d just be steak.”

“I like steak,” Minhyuk says with a shrug. “Seriously, Kihyun. We can just have regular steak tonight.”

“Minhyuk—it’s important. I have to make it with the wine,” Kihyun says, trying his best to keep his annoyance with himself at bay and out of his tone. It’s the plan, tonight needs to be special, and _I can’t just make you regular steak before asking you to spend the rest of my life with me_ , he wants to add, but can’t. “I can’t—it’s hard to explain but I need to make it with the wine tonight.”

Kihyun looks down, trying to keep his reddening cheeks out of sight. He knows he’s getting irrationally frustrated at the situation, but he’d been waiting so long for this day. He needs it to go exactly how he’d planned it.

“Kihyun, are you okay?” Minhyuk asks, circling around the kitchen island. “I promise it’s not a big deal. I don’t mind what we eat.”

“I just—I wanted it to be special,” Kihyun’s practically babbling at this point. Minhyuk’s confused—and it shows on his face. God, Kihyun must look ridiculous right now, being so upset about a wine opener.

“I don’t think I know what’s going on, but if it’s this important to you,” Minhyuk says, taking Kihyun’s flushed face in his hands. “How about I run to the convenience store and get us another wine opener?”

Kihyun nods dumbly, feeling even more pathetic that Minhyuk, sweetest Minhyuk, the kindest and most loving boyfriend, is willing to go to these lengths just to make Kihyun feel better, when he didn’t even understand what was wrong.

“Okay. Thank you,” Kihyun whispers. “I love you.”

“I’ll be back quick!” Minhyuk calls as he’s rushing to throw his coat on.

Kihyun should’ve foreseen that the missing wine opener was just the first of many mishaps.

It doesn’t take Minhyuk long to return from the convenience store, brand new wine opener in hand. In the meantime, Kihyun had cut up an onion—well, it was more like just lightly smashing it with the knife while he wallowed in his embarrassment—and nearly worn out all of his energy just from seasoning the meat.

When Kihyun finally has the wine opener in his grasp, he lets out a sigh of relief. So far, their evening still looks promising.

It’s apparent that he’s thought it too soon when he pours far too much wine into the bowl with the steak. The meat is practically drowning in it.

Minhyuk laughs. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

The gears turn slowly in Kihyun’s head. His eyes widen. “Can we get drunk off this?”

Minhyuk laughs harder at that, throwing his head back in the process. “Kihyun, I was just kidding. I think I read somewhere that alcohol evaporates when you cook with it? We’re not gonna get drunk, don’t worry.”

Kihyun stares down at the bowl, eyes still wide.

“I’m not _that_ much of a lightweight, Kihyun,” Minhyuk teases, trying to make Kihyun laugh. It’s to no avail, Kihyun’s too preoccupied with the meat swimming in the wine.

With a sigh, Kihyun pulls his shoulders back, trying to compose himself and redirect his focus back to cooking. “You absolutely _are_ that much of a lightweight,” he teases.

A couple of small incidents happen in the next ten minutes—small enough that Kihyun still has the will to trek on, but still maddening enough that he’s a moment away from ripping his own hair out.

When Kihyun takes a whiff of the red wine sauce, it sends him into a fit of coughs. He knocks over the bottle of balsamic vinegar. Minhyuk takes pity on him and cleans it up for him. His hand cramps up not once, but twice. Minhyuk has to slap his hand until it returns to its normal state, not once, but twice.

And it all happens before he’s even _thought_ about starting on the pasta.

Kihyun shoves a hand in the pocket of his Gudetama apron (which he’s only worn because he knows Minhyuk’s favourite hobby is teasing him for it—and Minhyuk hasn’t even gotten the chance to do that, because he’s preoccupied with cleaning Kihyun’s messes). His fingers enclose around the box that’s keeping the ring safe. He takes a deep breath, trying to remind himself why he’s going through all of this trouble in the first place. Okay, he’s okay. When he finally gets the chance to ask Minhyuk to marry him, it’ll all be worth it.

He turns his attention back to the stove.

And of course, the meat is stuck to the pan. Kihyun pulls at it with the tongs. Nothing. It won’t budge. After a few more unbearable moments of tugging, the meat rips. Of course.

He keeps pulling, and the steak keeps ripping. Kihyun wants to laugh. It’s wine-drunk and falling apart. And God, he still hasn’t started on the fucking pasta.

Kihyun lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a sob and a choke. Minhyuk peers into the pan, nearly bursting into laughter at the sight.

“It’s stuck,” is all Kihyun can manage to say. He paws at the meat with the tongs some more, accomplishing nothing.

Minhyuk sighs. “Kihyun, I love you. And I appreciate you doing this for me,” he says, trying his best not to laugh at his boyfriend’s misfortune. “But I can’t stand to see you suffer like this for a minute longer.”

Kihyun groans. He takes a swig directly from the wine bottle, which makes Minhyuk giggle.

He comes over and rests his chin on Kihyun’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his defeated boyfriend’s waist. “Do you wanna just order Mr. Pizza?” he asks. “I have a coupon.”

Thankfully, the pizza arrives in nearly record time.

Technology is amazing, Kihyun thinks. His failure of a romantic dinner is instantly fixed by the power of a food delivery app. So easily accessible too, right in the palm of his hand.

They settle on the couch with the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. Since Kihyun had already said ‘fuck it’ and drank directly from the wine bottle, they forgo wine glasses and just pass the half-empty bottle back and forth instead.

“Has Mr. Pizza always been this good?” Kihyun says, shovelling another slice into his mouth. There’s pizza sauce on his Gudetama apron.

Minhyuk giggles. “I think pizza always tastes better when you’ve ordered it after giving up on making real food.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. Minhyuk knows better than anyone that this is not the first time this has happened.

Minhyuk hops up from the couch, so suddenly that Kihyun nearly drops his pizza slice. “I just remembered! There’s a salad in the fridge,” he says. “We should eat it now—it’s like, seconds away from going bad.”

Kihyun just shrugs and helps himself to another sip from the wine bottle. It’s so funny—here he’d thought tonight would be the most romantic night of his life thus far, and Minhyuk’s suggesting they eat nearly-rot salad. And Kihyun’s agreeing to it.

A few moments pass, and Kihyun realizes Minhyuk has been standing at the kitchen island, spending far too long fussing over the ready-made salad. He peeks over the couch.

“What are you doing?” he asks. Minhyuk’s looking at the salad like he’s challenging it to a staring competition.

“There’s cranberries in it,” Minhyuk says. “In the salad—I’m trying to take them out. I know you don’t like them. Man, there’s a lot in here.”

For some reason, it’s a breaking point.

Kihyun has always been a quiet crier. Silent sniffles, no sobs. So, it’s a miracle when Minhyuk notices the single tear escaping Kihyun’s eyes, trickling down his face, hot against his cheek.

“Kihyun?” Minhyuk says, practically dropping the salad and rushing back over. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—it’s just,” Kihyun blubbers. “You took the cranberries out for me.”

“Hey,” Minhyuk says, taking Kihyun’s hands in his. “You know what? Let’s do something else. I think the steak traumatized you.”

Kihyun just nods dumbly, letting Minhyuk yank him up and off the couch by his arms.

“Dinner is officially over,” Minhyuk decides, pulling Kihyun along into an open space in the living room. He puts his hands on Kihyun’s shoulders. “Wait here.”

When Minhyuk returns, he’s got his Bluetooth speaker tucked under his arm, and his phone hanging on for dear life on its charging cord in hand. He wastes no time setting it up, and putting on a song.

“Come on. Let’s dance.”

Kihyun grimaces. He’s not a dancer—and well, neither is Minhyuk, but Minhyuk’s unabashed enough to do it anyway.

Kihyun relents, why the hell not. They’re not dancing, not really. Mostly just swaying with a cheesy ballad playing in the background. Kihyun eases under Minhyuk’s touch, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, letting himself melt into Minhyuk’s warm embrace.

“Why were you so hell-bent on making tonight perfect?” Minhyuk asks, softly mumbling into Kihyun’s hair.

“I wanted to do something special for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Minhyuk whispers. “Just being together is special enough.”

Kihyun hums, keeping his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder. The song changes—it’s another slow one.

You know what, Kihyun thinks. Fuck it. He’s already gotten this far, embarrassed himself this much, and Minhyuk is still looking at him like he’s ready to give him the world.

He lifts his head off Minhyuk’s shoulder. “You really wanna know why? Why I was trying so hard?”

With a confused look on his face, Minhyuk’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Um… yes?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for months—for _forever_ , Minhyuk. I’d been planning it,” Kihyun says.

“Planning… to make me red wine steak?”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “No, listen to me, Minhyuk. I planned this because I wanted to tell you something. I need you to know something.”

“What is it?” Minhyuk asks, breath catching in his throat.

“I want to be with you all the time. Everywhere. Whether it’s here or the new apartment we lied to Kiwoo about having or the fucking moon or wherever else,” Kihyun says. “Or to Tokyo.”

It takes a second for the words to set in, and when they do, Minhyuk gasps and his eyes widen. “Hyungwon told you, didn’t he?”

Kihyun nods.

“Oh my god... Kihyun,” Minhyuk says, looking devastated. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just—I don’t know. I didn’t even turn it down actually—yet, I haven’t given them an answer yet—”

Kihyun shakes his head. “I know, dumbass. And I know you, and I know you’re hesitating about taking the job—even though it’s a dream job—because of me. I don’t want you to think that I wouldn’t go to Tokyo for you. Because I would. I’ll be happy wherever you take me.”

“Kihyun…”

Kihyun smiles, and it reaches his eyes. He searches the pocket of his Gudetama apron—the ring is still there, still safe in its box. He gets down onto one knee, ring in his trembling grip. The princess cut diamond is still shining just as brightly as it did the day he bought it.

“Minhyuk, will you—”

“Oh my god— _fuck_. Yes, I’ll marry you, you fucking idiot, are you kidding me,” Minhyuk rushes out, pulling Kihyun back up to his feet. Kihyun barely has a moment to take a breath before his boyfriend—his fiancé—his _Minhyuk_ —is catching his flushed cheeks in his hands, catching his lips in a kiss.

“I didn’t even get to say it,” Kihyun giggles against Minhyuk’s lips. “What if I was about to ask you something else? What if I was asking you to do the dishes?”

“Too bad. I’m marrying you,” Minhyuk says, kissing him again. His voice is just a breath over a whisper, dreamy and loving. “We’re husbands now.”

Kihyun wrinkles his nose. “We’re not married yet, we’re fiancés—”

Minhyuk kisses him a third time. “I love you. You stupid fucking idiot. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kihyun practically sings, sliding the ring onto Minhyuk’s finger. Once it’s there and snug, Kihyun lets his head fall onto Minhyuk’s shoulder. “Why is getting engaged so embarrassing? I’m about to combust. I probably look like a tomato right now.”

“Kihyun, you cried over cranberries like, five minutes ago,” Minhyuk says, squeezing his arms around Kihyun. “We’re past embarrassment.”

“Oh my god,” Kihyun grumbles. “Let’s not talk about that.”

The moment is nothing like Kihyun had imagined it would be, but he doesn’t care. It’s perfect anyway.

“Kihyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s move to Tokyo.”


End file.
